


That which Yearns is that which Knows

by Midnight Wolf (Larkawolfgirl)



Category: Bravely Default (Video Game) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Childhood Friends, Developing Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8199131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larkawolfgirl/pseuds/Midnight%20Wolf
Summary: Two yearning hearts, three different perspectives.





	1. Edea: Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Ringabel spoilers

She remembers Alternis. His quietness, manners, chivalry, and duty. She remembers their quick bond, formed from circumstance more so than fondness. Friends are skim when you are the Grand Marshal's daughter, and who better to cling onto than the knight assigned to remain by your side?

He was a poor boy, abandoned by his family and taken in by her father’s kindness. As wretched as he was that first day, his honorable heart shone through in his adherence to repay her father’s kindness by devoting himself as a knight. He was young, far too young for the battlefield, so her father assigned him as her personal knight. It wasn’t like she was ever in need of real protection since, for the most part, she never left home. His job was an acknowledgment more than anything, yet he took his duty far too seriously.

She was still a child, not much younger than him but far more so in mindset. For her life was a game of make-believe stories and idle pastime, yet each time she tried to include him in one of her games, he remained ridged, closed-off, and equiped with a sword. If she were honest with herself, that sword frightened her, more than any imagined threat it might have protected her from. Its blade was far too shiny and sharp and held in a much too shaky hold. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Alternis to protect her; what she didn’t trust was his ability to let go, to realize a sword would not solve every problem.

Her favorite game was that she was a princess and he was a knight and that after years of knowing each other and surviving countless dangers together, they wed. It didn’t matter that half the game was real or that his eyes always shifted uncomfortably, it made her happy for some strange reason that she never paused to question. They would say pretend vows, and while she spoke of endless affection, a lifetime together, and all the sweets they could eat in a loud, merry tone, Alternis’ voice never ceased to tremble and skip on his words when he promised to love her above all others and for all time. And one day years later, when she heard him say these practiced words, she felt a flutter in her chest as she never had before. It wasn’t until that day that the game became something more, something she could no longer continue playing with a clear conscious, and her glances at him grew more defined. It wasn’t until then that she understood she wanted more from him than a stand-in for her games.

She began to ask him endless questions, her curiosity ever bounding. His replies were curt and unsatisfactory (where did you live? On the outskirts of the city), yet she never stopped asking, and he never stopped answering, even when she had asked the same question a hundred times. Slowly, she could see his rigidness begin to melt, and he began to ask his own questions, to which she elaborated and exaggerated to no end, and he would sit there in silence and let her prattle to her heart’s content.

After years of distance, he came to feel closer to her than all but her father in a mere matter of months. At least until his fifteenth birthday, when her father decided he was wise and skilled enough to become a true knight. When that sword and his new dark knight armor proved to be his true companions. His words shifted to simple courtesies spoken behind an ever-present mask. She remembers the ache it brought to her heart when he remained unresponsive as he stood watch at her bedroom door, and how he insisted on changing his place of position to outside her chambers for her increased privacy and ease even though a solid door between them was the last thing she wanted. Their distance continued to grow wider until her memories and affections for him buried themselves deep down in the bottom of her heart so as not to trouble her any longer.

But she still remembers Alternis—he’s impossible to forget—especially now, when Ringabel stands just in front of her. Mirror images, nothing alike, yet so very much the same. In a way, Ringabel is everything she wishes Alternis could have been. She yearns to ask him how such a change happened, if he himself changed or if it was a byproduct of a fresh start. Yet she reminds herself that even if Ringabel is Alternis he is still not her Alternis. This causes a twinge to her heart as it pulls slightly to one side, then the other before settling. There is no contest, not when Alternis made his choice and Ringabel stands here with open arms. It’s almost funny, she thinks, how this time around she was the one to close herself off. How until this moment she would have slapped him and called him a pervert at a mere touch, yet now she folds herself into his arms, sighs contentedly, whispers “I missed you,” and wishes that everything would make sense. He brushes and kisses at her hair, and she pretends that it does.


	2. Alternis: Love

Alternis loves Edea. Loves her simple grace, refined beauty, quick judgements, and rambunctious nature. He remembers how he landed into her life like a mercy from some god above. He remembers how the pain and misery of losing his family and struggling to survive on scraps of garbage disappeared instantly when he set eyes on her innocent face. When he heard those words from the king, “I’ll take you in as my son,” there was no question of his own decision. He could never view this child—this angel—as a sister. He would rather devote himself to protecting that innocent smile and youthful giggle, even if it meant putting a barrier between them.

Her life was so different from his, even after he came to live in Eternia. To her, life was a game and made of binaries, a simplistic outlook he was not fortunate to recipricate. To her, someone was either good or bad (he was good), either noble or not (he was noble), either her friend or not (he was her friend). There were no gray areas, no doubts, no reservations. As much as he felt he did not deserve it, she trusted him completely. Still, he never failed to notice the way she glanced at his sword, the way her pupils dilated with a sliver of fear. A warranted fear, perhaps, for he had sharp edges that should not exist in her world. 

Her favorite game was that she was a princess and he was a knight and that after years of knowing each other and surviving countless dangers together, they wed. The game was far too close to real life for his liking, far too close to longings he never gave into. They would say pretend vows, and while she spoke of endless affection, a lifetime together, and all the sweets they could eat in a loud, merry tone, Alternis could never prevent his own voice from trembling and skipping over his words when he promised to love her above all others and for all time, for these were words he had no right to say, not to a noble, especially one so trusting and innocent. Then, one day the game stopped without warning, and though with its termination came relief, also came a twinge of sadness, for deep down being able to admit eternal promises let him sleep easier at night.

After that day, she began to ask him endless questions, her curiosity ever bounding. His replies were curt and unsatisfactory (for he had no right to get too close when he should be nothing more than her shield and armor), yet she never stopped asking, and he never stopped answering, even when she had asked the same question a hundred times. Gradually, his pretense fell, and he began to ask his own questions. A part of him felt as if he had failed by allowing them to grow closer, yet failure was worth the dazzling sight of her bright smile and shining eyes as she prattled to her heart’s content.

When the king called him in on his fifteenth birthday, offering him a true knight’s title as well as the dark knight’s asterisk, there was again no question. Edea must be protected, and his life would be her shield and armor. Armor does not play games or talk about life, and so he ceased to do either, reserving himself to the bare minimum entirely for her sake. Their distance grew until his affection buried itself deep down in the bottom of his heart where it could no longer interfere with his duties.

But he still loves Edea—always will—especially now as he faces her in battle. She’s changed, matured so much yet still so much the same. In a way, she is now everything he used to wish she would be: broader minded, steadfastly devoted to a cause, and as strong and independent as a sword. No longer does she need his strength to support her. He yearns to ask her how such a change happened beyond his awareness, if their distance is truly so far, or if he had merely blinded himself. Yet he reminds himself that both are his fault and that now another stands by her side. Another with his face and his name, yet somehow a better match for her from a simple glance. His stance is different, open and flexible. The way he looks at her is clear and honest. A twinge pulls in Alternis’ heart. He loves Edea. He has loved her from first sight, yet he knows that he never managed to love her in the way that she wanted or deserved. This other manages both, and though he will never be him, this is for the best, he thinks. All he’s ever wanted is to protect her smile and life, and somehow between the two of him, he’s succeeded.


	3. Ringabel: Insight

Ringabel knows Edea—knew her when nothing else made sense—especially now when his memories have tumbled their way back inside his head. He knows both her child wonder and womanly charms. He knows her compassion, her sense of justice, and bound attachments. He knows the romantic tendencies she hides behind red cheeks and flaring eyes and insults. He knows her inside out now, and that knowledge only makes his love that much stronger.

As Alternis, his love came quick, based first on looks and nurtured through actions, and as Ringabel it came much the same. And much the same, both came with a barrier, even if Ringabel’s was one of scattered affections, not so much a distance as a farce, and one that fell more and more with time instead of growing taller. He now remembers words of love shared but never spoken in earnest. Remembers how his chest ached and his heart yearned, and though both still do, Edea is beside him, so neither matter.

They’ve both changed, him so much so that he’s even less sure who he is now that he remembers, but he still knows her. Still loves her. These are the assurances in his mind and heart. In a way, he is now everything he should have been: focused solely on her, rather than what he thinks she needs. He yearns to ask her what she thinks of him now, as both Alternis and Ringabel, yet neither.

A sweet crying face answers his silent question, and when he opens his arms for her, she folds herself against him, allows him to brush and kiss against her hair. Holding her like this is all he’s ever wanted, and when she whispers “I missed you” his heart nearly bursts. His arms tighten and eyes close. He knows now, he knows.  


End file.
